


In Which Draco and Harry (not so) Secretly Want to Make Out

by BendItLikeBeckham, MaruEatsFalafel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Neville Longbottom, Auror Partners, Auror Ron Weasley, Chapter 3 is SMUT, DRACO IS GAY U CANT CHANGE MY MIND, Desi Harry Potter (heavily implied by author who is desi), Draco Malfoy & Ron Weasley Friendship, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Draco Malfoy is a Brat, Draco just wants to feel loved okay, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I think that's it????, Idiots in Love, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Panic Attacks, Power Bottom Harry Potter, Smut, Stupid Boys, disaster bi! ron weasley, draco doesn't think he's worth it, draco makes assumptions and forgets about bisexuality, draco reallllly wants to blow harry at work, enemies if you count school days, ginny and harry are best friend goals, ginny weasley needs to wife the author, i mean they were in a war their whole lives, nb butch lesbian millie bulstrode, pansy and millicent are butch femme couple goals, pansy is the best friend, so duh?, they kind of share that really, trans man astoria greengrass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BendItLikeBeckham/pseuds/BendItLikeBeckham, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruEatsFalafel/pseuds/MaruEatsFalafel
Summary: Draco has been obsessed with Harry since school, and now they're friends and auror partners and he's fucking in love with the boy who lived and who happens to have a lovely girlfriend.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy (breif), Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom (minor), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (past), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (minor), Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley (minor), Millicent Bulstrode/Pansy Parkinson (minor), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas (implied), Seamus Finnigan/Ron Weasley (past)(implied)
Kudos: 64





	1. Draco Malfoy and Forgetting About Bisexuality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseszain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseszain/gifts).



> THEO HERE IS CHAPTER 1!!! I hope you like it. I still haven't got to your "patch each other up" prompt, but it's coming!! These two just wouldn't let me skip the build up!!
> 
> Also there's a bit with hate crimes by incels against lesbians (nothing life threatening, nothing that went unpunished, nothing rapey) so if that is not something you want to real maybe don't read this?
> 
> Title I stole from The Whomping Willows Song "In Which Draco and Harry Secretly Want To Make Out" please listen to it it's a riot.  
> 

There was a reason why it wasn’t allowed for spouses to be field partners. A reason why this was the case not only in the UK MLE, but also in muggle police departments all over the world. But Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter weren’t known for their regard for any rules. Even their own.

Draco knew, from a fairly young age, that he would break his anti-Potter rule if the other boy was willing to fold his own anti-Malfoy rule. The more time that passed with glares and taunts and sneers, the more desperate Draco became for a sign of that Harry’s resolve was also shaking. But then You-Know-Who stripped away all hope of that, and Draco’s life became about keeping his parents from being eaten up by death.

Soon after the war ended, Harry threw himself head first into making their world as safe as it could realistically be. He worked tirelessly and his Gryffindor idiot friends Weasley and Longbottom worked with him. He put the men who would come round the manor for dinner when Draco was a child behind bars--giving them a fair trial to boot. Draco admired Potter. Pansy would say he pined after him. He was inclined to agree.

Draco ended up testifying in nearly every death eater’s trial, he’d floo in in between classes, or send in vials of his memory, knowing they were locked up helped the night terrors. It also meant that Potter was there while he shook through the memories and relived everything he’d done to destroy Harry and the world they both lived in. The Slytherin had expected Harry to be cold, resentful, guarded, but that was never the case. He would just listen, he didn’t seem to care what side Draco had been on now that he was clearly unravelling just to be on the _right_ side.

After he finished at Hogwarts he started in the Auror Academy--the waive on joining the MLE without the three year training expired only months after it was put in place. Once he completed the training and joined the Aurors he was assigned a field partner. Originally Robards had paired him with Longbottom, but the other blond was reluctant to work with someone who had bullied him without cause through all of school. Thus Draco Malfoy became Harry Potter’s partner, and Longbottom and Weasley paired up. The four of them ended up on many ops together as well.

Draco would never have guessed he’d break his no Weasley rule (more out of his jealousy over Ron’s and Harry’s friendship and Harry and Ginny’s relationship, than his 'hatred' for their liberal politics), but working together in life or death situations had a way of bringing two people together. Once Draco got the lanky ginger’s trust, they became close friends at an alarming rate with their shared love of quidditch and wizard’s chess and the deeper implications of the fairy tales their mothers would tell them in the dark. It helped that he no longer had to torment the man’s best friend to get said friend’s attention. The fact that, unlike Draco, Harry and Neville straight up refused to listen to Ron wax endlessly in cliché poetics about Granger brought the two closer as well.

But there was no match for the way he and Potter had each other’s backs, understood each other’s thoughts and whims, and anticipated each other’s moves. If their chemistry when they were school yard enemies was electric, their chemistry as partners was _seismic_.

As time went on, and the Aurors worked, the number of old threats began to dwindle, and their team began to hit the pub after long work weeks. Neville got them free drinks from Abbott, who’d started up as barkeep at Leaky. Draco hadn’t felt comfortable in much of magic London since the war, he felt guilty, and many witches and wizards were intent on making sure he remained feeling as such. That changed once he fell in with the Gryffindors. They would snap at anyone who so much as looked at Malfoy wrong when they were out, and their vote of confidence was slowly tempering Draco to the outside world and vice versa in a way that Pansy or Blaise never could.

It was on one such pub night when the topic of conversation turned to relationships. They were sitting in a booth, Neville and Draco on one side and Harry and Ron on the other. Neville had been fretting over some comment Hannah had made on their last date and turned to them for advice.

“Don’t ask me,” Draco mumbled, “I’ve never been one for the fairer sex.” He’d spoken quietly, not sure he was ready for the boys to hear, unsure of how they would react.

“I wouldn’t worry, mate, she really likes you, I reckon,” Ron replied as if he hadn’t got the bomb that Draco had been trying to drop. He turned to Draco with a roll of his eyes. “And who talks like that anymore, mate, your princess is showing! ‘Fairer sex?!’ Just cus you don’t fancy ‘em doesn’t mean you need to turn them into china dolls.”

Draco blinked. That’s what Ron was going to take issue with? That he spoke like he was raised in a cold stuffy manor (which, hello, he was!)?

Harry gave the red head a little shove and smiled a little at Draco, opening his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by his best friend (ever the chatterbox when tipsy). “I like lads and birds myself. D’ya know, fourth year I nearly died, what with my celebrity crush dating the love of my life. It’s a shame Victor’s not into blokes, me an’ ‘Moine woulda really made it worth his while.”

Neville choked on his pumpkin ale, spluttering amber liquid all over Harry across the table. Draco couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of The Chosen One wiping mouth-warmed beer off of his glasses while more dripped off the tip of his nose. He shot Draco a rueful quirk of the lips before pulling his wand out for a _scourgify_. Once clean, he brushed off Neville’s apology, easygoing in a way that never failed to awe Malfoy, who was raised in a world of only conditional affection.

“Speaking of Hermione, maybe we should return you to her for the night before you asphyxiate Longbottom with more of your sordid sexual endeavours with your fiancé,” Draco suggested dryly.

Weasley pouted while the other three laughed. “He’s right, mate,” Harry grinned, “You hit the Ogden’s hard today.”

“If Hannah made you pay for it all, you’d definitely be sleeping on your mum’s sofa tonight,” Neville teased.

“Right, I just coined Gin, she’s gonna come side-along you home, I think she wanted to pick up a book from Hermione. That’s what she said this morning, anyway.”

Draco visibly flinched at the mention of Ron’s sister, his light mood vanishing, sure, at work it was him and Harry versus the world, but outside of that? They were workmates, pub friends, and at the end of the night Harry went home to the flat he shared with Ginny. Because Harry Potter was tragically straight. Draco was so caught up in his sudden brooding that he didn’t notice the cause of his suffering trying to catch his eye. By the time he snapped out of his reverie Harry had turned away to greet the woman who was living the life Draco wanted.

He couldn’t see them together, the burn in his eyes too humiliating. Draco turned on his heel and apparated to Pansy’s to lick his wounds with his best friend.

“Oh, Darling,” Pansy crooned at the sight of her best friend standing on her doorstep in the London rain, face tense and drawn. She pulled her dressing gown tighter around her shoulders and tied the belt around waist with a snap. Of course Draco would have a break down and show up at her door the night she finally got Millie to make a move. “Come in, love.”

The blond stepped into Pansy’s flat, and in the light it was clear he’d been crying. That the ghosts had come calling again. She cast a drying spell with a mutter and a flick before pulling him into a fierce hug. Draco shook while she held him until the tremors faded a bit.

“Hey,” Pansy said with a small smile, “why don’t we go into the kitchen, I’ll get Buffy to put the kettle on.” The brunette led Draco to kitchen at the back of her flat and sat him down on of the chairs in her breakfast nook. Buffy, her house elf, was already clattering about the hob. “Give me a moment, Millie’s in my bed and I don’t want them to think I’ve done a runner.”

Pansy rushed to her room and slipped inside. Millie Bulstrode was sat on her bed in nothing but their binding top and boxers, staring down at their hands interlocked between their knees. They didn’t look up as they spoke. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Mill, no, of course not!” Pansy dropped to her knees in front of the person she was very quickly falling in love with. She cupped Millie’s face between her palms and looked into their tawny eyes. “I’ve been _dreaming_ of your hands on my skin and sitting on your strap for _months._ And every time we go out I wish it wouldn’t end. I want nothing more than to spend all night tonight with you,” she leaned up to give Millie a soft kiss on their lips, “but unfortunately my disaster of a best mate has just shown up at my door a wreck, and I must see to him.”

Millie nodded, now understanding, they ran a hand through Pansy’s long brown hair, pulled her in for a sweet kiss. “Thank you Pans, I’ll just head out then, and you can call me in the morning.” They stood, pulling their girlfriend to her feet as well. “I hope Malfoy is okay, mostly so you can come over to mine and I can finally get my mouth on you, but also because he’s your best friend.”

Pansy giggled and kissed Millie one last time before turning and going back to the kitchen to join Draco.

The man in question stood as soon as he caught sight of her and said in a panicked rush, “Pansy, I’m so sorry I had no idea you had someone over. I’ll just head home, I know you’ve been waiting to bring Millie home for ages, get back to them, I--”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, sit your pale arse down in that chair before I hex you,” Pansy interrupted with a firm tone and gentle push to his chest. “We are going to sit here with a cup of tea--and no nothing stronger, your mind healer’s made it pretty clear alcohol will only make your post-traumatic stress worse,” she clarified before the man could think to ask. She smiled when he dropped back down into his chair.

Buffy set two cups of tea on the kitchen table and shuffled out of the room. Pansy pulled the empty chair around the table so it was only an inch or two from Draco’s, and sat down, body tilted towards him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “do you want to talk about what happened, love?”

Draco shrugged, looking into his tea cup like Trelawney was watching. He took a small sip. Sighed. “I suppose, yes...”

“Do you want me to ask, or do you just want to start?” She was fully aware no one expected a Slytherin raised during or between the wars to be soft and loving and compassionate, but they were all idiots. Draco was the only person who stood by her when she’d come out during eighth year, she was the one who held him through nightmares. Pansy didn’t send Millie home because she felt obligated to care for Draco; she sent them home because Draco was all she had left of _her_ home. She wanted to help the boy who'd become her brother.

“I came out to the lads.”

Later Pansy would tease him about calling Potter, Longbottom, and Weasley his lads, that is if they weren’t the cause of this panic spell, for now she made a sympathetic sound and asked, “and?”

“Ron was drunk and he started taking the mickey,” Pansy tensed, but Draco shook his head and nearly smiled, “he was telling me it was unfeminist and posh of me to call women ‘the fairer sex.’ Then he talked about how he wanted in Krum’s trousers loud enough for the whole pub to hear.”

Pansy’s eyebrows furrowed, “that’s good, yeah? You’ve got another friend who’s out?”

“No, yeah, that’s great. But then Harry started talking about _Ginny_ ,” Draco spat the name, more out pain than spite (although jealousy will lead to a fair amount of spite). “He called her to get Ron. And she just fits him Pans. Fits his friends. Is his family. I’ll never get that, and I don’t even deserve it. Pansy _I helped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. I have a dark mark to prove it. I should be in Azkaban rotting with my father for all I did and instead I am upset that Harry Potter won’t love me. Even if he wasn’t straight, I’d have no right to ask that of him. I just--it _hurts_.”

He was crying now, tears welling in his silvery eyes. The man before her was shaking with guilt and self-hatred, unable to see how far he’d come. How good he was. Despite everything. Pansy pulled him into a tight hug, rocked him, kissed his corn silk hair. Draco didn’t need words right now, he needed to know that sometimes, people won’t leave. Won’t let you down. She held him until their teas were cold, and then she settled them both on her sofa in a blanket and she read him The Fountain of Fair Fortune until he fell asleep against the arm rest.

ϟϟϟ

Draco didn’t reply to any of the owls Harry sent asking him where he disappeared to that evening. He didn’t have the energy to deal with Potter right now. They’d see each other come Monday morning anyhow. He’d left Pansy’s and proceeded to make some poor choices. Like calling on Astor Greengrass for casual sex. Now Draco was trying to untangle himself from a sleepy, yet still randy, Greengrass.

“One round is all you’re good for Malfoy? Since when?” Astor snarked as Draco sat up and reached down for his pants.

“You act like I didn’t just get you off thrice consecutively,” Draco shot back snidely.

Astor laughed and flopped back onto his bed, “that you did.”

After pulling his briefs on, Draco stood, walked to where his trousers were heaped on the floor, picked them up, and spelled the creases out, before stepping into them as well. “You don’t like me much do you, Draco?”

The man in question looked up from fiddling with his flies, face pinched in annoyance. “I like you fine, wouldn’t come around if I didn’t.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what a guy wants to hear from a bloke he’s fucking,” Astor shot back, sounding a little too hurt to be sarcastic, a little too focused on the ceiling to be offhand.

“Astor, I’m--I can’t--you understand?” The blond man stuttered, looking down again.

Astor sat and scooted to the edge of the bed, legs dangling down. He reached a hand out and hooked it in one of Draco’s belt loops, focused on the feel of expensive wool between his fingers. “Daphne told me not to mess around with you Malfoy. I thought she wasn’t over the war, or she thought you’d be a shit about me being trans. Maybe it was those things, but really, anyone can see you want Potter. You have a type though don’t you--seeker’s build, black hair? I’m never gonna be who you want despite having the right look.”

Draco began to shake slightly. He’d thought he was done with the part of his life where he hurt those close to him. The last thing he wanted was to become for Greengrass what Potter was to him. But that’s what he was doing. He dropped down to his knees on the floor, so he was looking up into Astor’s face. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I would never have strung you along if I would have known, Astor. You’re a great wizard, and any man would be lucky to have you.” Astor sighed, pushed Draco’s bangs back like he wore them in school. He could see the sincerity in the man’s face.

“Thanks for saying that, but Malfoy, I think you should leave.”

Malfoy nodded, understanding, “If you need anything--I just hope someday we can be friends?” It sounded so cliché, but Astor could see that the man truly meant it. He smiled sadly as Draco apparated away.

Monday came, and Draco was even more drained than when he left the pub on the Friday before. He walked into his and Potter’s office fifteen minutes late, and went straight to his side. He hooked his satchel on the coat tree behind his desk, and then turned and began sifting through the detritus of their recently wrapped case.

There was the sound of a chair scraping the floor, and the squeak of Potter’s out-of-dress-code muggle trainers as the man undoubtedly made his way over to Draco from the desk on the opposite wall of the small room. “Morning, Draco.”

“Potter,” Draco muttered not looking up.

“D’ya want me to make you a cuppa?”

The Slytherin felt himself melt. Harry guessed that he hadn’t had his tea because he came in late. On top of that he was offering to fix that tragedy. How the fuck was he supposed to fall out of love with that idiot. “Yes, Potter, I’d be forever in your debt--oh wait I already am.”

Draco looked up in time to see Harry roll his eyes before he walked the three strides over to the kettle they kept on the bookshelf against the wall perpendicular to both of their desks. “Don’t give me that shite Dray,” he was filling the kettle with his wand now. “Seriously, we’ve saved each other’s lives so many times over, stop focusing on the war, the battle, you’ve done so much good and you don’t see it. It’s not like I’m blameless either. Draco, I've almost fucking killed you,” his voice broke here and he put the kettle to heat. 

Draco felt compelled to look up, just from the feeling of Potter’s eyes on him. When their eyes met Harry said, “You don’t owe me anything.” And strangely Draco almost believed it. Harry handed him a cup of tea. Draco sat in his desk chair and took a sip. It was perfect.

The Gryffindor ran a hand through his hair, it looked ridiculous, and Draco wanted to rub his face in it to see if it was as silky against his cheeks as it looked between Potter’s fingers. It seemed like he was going to say something else, when Robards swung their office door open barking, “Got you lads a new case!”

Harry, being closer to the door, reached out and grabbed the proffered file, and flipped it open to read, “Reports of strange potions being passed around muggle clubs, sold under the guise of alcohol, used to lower inhibitions.” Potter was frowning, “fuck, it’s like magical roofies. Bastards.”

Their boss made a confused face and left. Draco and Harry had a good enough record to make their own game plans. Thank god. Draco was zoning out, but he could hear Harry planning, he’d just nod along and then follow his lead.

ϟϟϟ

Draco should have listened to Harry’s planning. If he had, he would have been able to veto this horrific idea. They were going to infiltrate one of the clubs. The specific one Harry had picked was a gay club. And they were going under cover. Which meant working with Harry while the man was dressed in tight black denim muggle trousers and a nearly transparent vest top with some muggle band printed on it. He’d also done something to his hair to make it look a little shiny and spikily quiffed. Draco wanted to drop to his _knees_ at the sight of the other man.

Bizarrely, it seemed that his own look was getting to Potter in some capacity as well. Internally Draco shrugged, it wasn't like Draco didn’t know how he looked in his silvery-white dragon leather trousers, loose translucent green button down he’d only bothered to do two buttons on, and shimmery silver-blue eyeliner. Harry had looked Draco up and down slowly, once, and then again, mouth hanging slightly open. “Like what you see, Potter?” Draco smirked, deciding to enjoy this rare moment.

Harry’s entire face flushed bright scarlet, he opened his mouth (for what Draco assumed would be a Very Heterosexual Denial), and replied, “and if I do?”

It was Draco’s jaw’s turn to drop. He blinked stupidly for a second, before collecting himself and saying primly, “you’ll have to take it up with your missus.”

Harry made an expression Draco couldn’t quite discern, but before the blond could ask, he was being side-alonged to a secluded ally near the selected club. When the boy who lived released Draco’s arm he turned to look at him, suddenly all business.

“We get in, get a hold of the potion, find its source if we can, and get out. Do not drink anything. Now, where’s your wand?”

It was all Draco could do not to tell Potter his _wand_ was wherever Harry wanted it; there was something so alluring about The Chosen One ordering him around. If only he’d do it outside of work. 

“Oi, Malfoy, snap out of it, do you have your wand?”

Draco shook himself. “Yes, Potter, all my trousers have wand slips, my tailor sees to it.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head, “you’re so posh.”

And with that they made their way to the club’s entrance.

Much to Draco’s surprise, the bouncer seemed to recognise Harry. The two did an absurd handshake-hug-thing before the large blond man let them pass without a fuss. The club was blasting something bass heavy, Draco could feel the music in his belly as he followed Harry. They’d agreed that one of them (Harry) would check out the bartenders--see if they were doing something suspicious--and Draco would scope the floor. Potter claimed it was because he couldn’t dance. Idiot.

At the edge of the dance floor, Harry turned to him, hooked an arm around his waist, pulled him close, and murmured, “good luck, blondie,” in his ear, before pushing him gently into the dancing crowd.

After collecting himself for a moment Draco began to sway his hips to the beat a bit. He kept his moves subtle and fluid so he could turn about the floor sinuously and scan all the faces for anything unusual. He felt a larger body press up behind him and rolled his eyes. It was nice to know there were men who wanted him, but seriously, he’s fucking working. Just as Draco decided it was enough and began to turn the man down, the guy is pulled away. By Harry Potter.

“Get lost, he's taken,” Harry fucking _growls_ , stepping close to Draco and slinging an arm around his neck.

The guy shrugged, cowed under Harry’s terrifying glare, and moved on to find someone else.

“Wha--” Draco began, only to be cut off.

“Look! There’s something happening by the loo--come on!” And Harry was off, and pulling Draco along behind him.

Sure enough a man was brandishing an oddly bubbling vial to two women who were giggling and kissing each other every few seconds, despite the man talking to them. “Won’t give you any hangover either,” the guy was saying.

Draco knew that voice. Had grown up with that voice. “Greg, you want to hand over that vial?”

Goyle startled, and snapped his eyes towards the sound of Malfoy’s voice, his jaw dropped at the sight of his former ring leader in clubbing attire standing next to his similarly dressed supposed arch nemesis. He sneered, “You’re one of them now are you?”

“One of what Goyle?” Malfoy drawled, voice dripping boredom and disinterest, as if this were a chance meeting of old schoolmates.

“A bloody pansy, like Parkinson!”

At this, Draco laughed, “Yeah, her name is Pansy, but I think she prefers the term ‘lesbian,’ as for me, generally I stick with ‘gay,’ ‘cocksucker,’ even, in the right circumstances.” He was stalling, something Harry had picked up on because he had scooted towards the girls and silently cleared the last few moments from their minds (and sobered them up a bit). Now, the couple who Goyle had been talking to had disappeared back into the crowd. Good luck for them they hadn’t taken the potion.

Potter was back at his side now, and Draco felt his arm flick as he silently accio-ed the potion from Goyle’s meaty hand. The thug didn’t even seem to notice, his small bigoted mind still trying to process Draco Malfoy willingly calling himself a cocksucker. Finally, though, the man arrived at what he assumed would be an effective comeback.

“You always were a bit too obsessed with Potter, now I think on it,” He said, then moved his gaze to Harry, “what? You a fairy too Chosen?”

“Leave Potter out--”

Beside him, Harry let out a weird choked scoff-snort-thing. “I’m bisexual, actually, Goyle, but I doubt you have the capacity to fully grasp duplicity,” he said, voice even. “Oh, and you’re under arrest, Gregory Goyle, for hate crimes against muggles and lesbians.”

Draco was frozen in shock at this new information. Harry James Potter was interested in men. His chest swelled with hope until he remembered that Harry, bi or not, was with Ginny. Living with Ginevra fucking Weasley. Draco was shook from his thoughts by Potter’s elbow connecting with his side. “Wha?”

“Cuff him, partner,” Harry smirked, probably quoting some muggle thing, but Draco shivered: _partner_. The blond auror did as he was told and cast the hand binding and apparition preventing charms on Goyle in a daze, while his so called 'partner' prepared their portkey back to the ministry.

The cigarette butt in Potter’s hand glowed blue and Draco guided Goyle’s into contact with the tiny disgusting thing before touching it himself with just the tip of his pinky. There was the naval jerk and spin, and in seconds they were in one of the suspect intake rooms of the MLE and Harry was speaking.

“Goyle, this room is magic-blocked and warded, there is an attached loo to your left, and water in the pitcher on the table,” Harry indicated toward the table in the middle of the room that had a chair on either side and a jug and glass on top of it. “We are going to change, and return to conduct your interview in five minutes. Please, make yourself at home.”

And with that Auror Potter turned and herded a disconcerted Auror Malfoy out of the room.

ϟϟϟ

Goyle ended up getting thirty years in Azkaban, all because Pansy Parkinson refused to be with him due to being a lesbian. Malfoy was truly floored that someone would spend their time selling random experimental potions to muggle lesbians in clubs, just hoping there would be some crazy reaction. Thanks to Goyle's memories, they were able to track down all his victims, most of whom thought they’d just had some sort of bad trip. One woman, however, described effects similar to a love potion, and had even propositioned Goyle several times as he was trying to make his escape. Turns out Goyle never did get the hang of potion brewing--thank Merlin for that--but the intent was there. He’d also be receiving counselling from a mind-healer during his Azkaban stay.

Good riddance. Draco was thankful for such a quick wrapping case, seriously, he’s not sure he could take another club scouting with Potter dressed to pull. That aside there was always something so satisfying about receiving, planning, and closing a case in the span of only two weeks. They’d even managed to get all the stupid paperwork done (no thanks to Harry who’d spent the last two hours folding paper cranes and tossing them at his partner’s desk instead of finishing his share of the logging). Draco set down his quill and crumpled the newest crane in his fist without looking up.

“Well, Potter,” He drawled, finally moving his gaze up to glare at the man seated at the desk across from his own, “if you’re quite finished making a mess of our office, would you please get over here and sign off on this file before I file a hostile work environment complaint?”

Harry just grinned back at him, like he knew how adorable Draco found his antics, and, Merlin, wasn’t that a horrifying possibility. Switching tactics, the Slytherin stood and walked the papers to Potter’s desk for signing. There was an evil little glint in his grey eyes, before he widened them all doe-like, kneeled beside Harry’s chair, and _squealed_ , “HARRY POTTER?! I’m your biggest fan! Please, please, please can I have your autograph, Harry?”

Draco was too caught up in his “Annoy Harry Potter Charade” to notice how Harry’s face had flushed at the sight of the blond on his knees and eyes wide. The heated look Potter had shot him vanished and was replaced by the expected annoyed eye roll and scowl at his co-worker’s antics. He snatched the papers from Malfoy and signed them in a rush, while the other man stood, now chuckling at Harry’s pout. “That, my friend, is what you get for faffing about while I do all the boring work.”

“Right, in that case, pub tonight? My treat?” Harry asked, standing up and sliding the papers into their magic outbox to their head of department.

“Careful there Potter,” Draco laughed, still amused and endeared at the other man’s pout from a minute ago, “I might get the wrong idea.”

Cringing inwardly at the obvious come-on he’d just shot at a taken man (who he was very much in love with), Draco flushed and turned to his coat stand immediately to fiddle with his bag and cloak. Of course, this also meant he missed Harry’s bashful smile and shrug, and assumed the man’s silence was a move of tactful feigned deafness. That he was letting the comment flit away to spare his friend the humiliation.

And thus, in an awkward yet companionable silence, the two wizards made their way to the ministry’s apparition point, and transported themselves to The Leaky Cauldron.

As always, first thing they made their way over to the bar to say hello to Abbott and get something to drink. True to his word Harry bought Draco his spiked gillywater along with his own acorn ale. It was times like this that the blond had to keep up a mantra in his head of _it’s not a date, he’s with Weaslette, keep it together_ in order to keep from spilling himself into the Gryffindor’s strong arms.

“Just you two today,” Hannah was asking as she poured Harry’s ale from one of the taps, “Ron and my boyfriend too busy to stop by?”

Draco watched Harry grin and shrug, “Hermione hasn’t forgiven Ron for outing their couple’s fantasy to the pub yet,” Hannah chuckled at this, shaking her head in amusement. “As for Neville--”

“He’s visiting his gran,” Draco cut in casually, effectively cutting Harry off with a pinch to the hip to shut him up. Despite being an auror and having saved the world, Harry Potter was still terrible at lying to his friends. It would be cute if Draco didn’t have to pick up the slack. He could see Harry nodding in his periphery. “He left work early saying she wanted him to call. Not sure why.”

It wasn’t a lie for the most part. Neville was going to see his grandmother, but they did know why. He went to ask her if she thought he should take Hannah to meet his parents. It was best if Abbott was in the dark about this in case Dame Augusta Longbottom rejected the idea. Also it was Neville’s place to share.

Hannah smiled at them and slid their drinks across the bar. “If you see him before I do tell him I’ve got Sunday off, yeah?”

Harry nodded while Draco wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, all three of them laughed before the two men moved to find somewhere to sit.

They ended up at a tiny square table close to the Diagon Alley side exit, they chatted easily, about decorating their office more, about Pansy and Millie moving in together (what is it with lesbians and quick commitment? Harry called it 'you-hauling' or something?), about Teddy’s new obsession with insects and how they could work that into a birthday present, and about how Harry was deciding whether or not to adopt a puppy. Both of them were in high spirits until they got on the topic of quidditch. Even that had started out well enough, what with them laughing bemusedly at the Cannons winning three whole games, much to Ron’s joy, only to lose in their match against an American upstart team.

It was only when they started to talk about the Holyhead Harpies that Draco felt himself withdrawing. It’s true, the team had had an epic season, winning two games in which the opposition caught the snitch, and of course most of that credit was due to one Ginny Weasley. Watching Harry talk about her goals, shining with pride, and giving little anecdotes that he’d heard from Ginny about training, was too much. Draco was crumbling with every word, but at the same time he craved that burn of rejection. It helped him remember his place. It was his punishment.

“--you okay, Dray?” Draco was jolted from his thoughts by Harry’s hand on his shoulder. Draco nodded slowly. “You sure? You look like you’re somewhere else. Is it...you know?”

The tenderness in Potter voice made Draco want to sob. His caring. They had talked, once or twice, about the nightmares, the guilt, the flashbacks, what the mind healers call post-traumatic stress disorder, both of them experienced symptoms. It was so sweet that Harry jumped to helping Draco--offering him comfort from the demons they know they share. Cursed Potter was just going around making Draco love him more.

“How are things,” Draco began, ignoring Harry’s concerned look, “with you and Ginny, I mean?”

“Uh, fine? I guess,” Harry said. Draco looked up into his face, surprised at the lacklustre response. Harry’s brow was furrowed in confusion.

“Fine?”

“I mean, it wasn’t like, a bad break up or anything. I’m not like Goyle. I’m not going to freak out because my girlfriend comes out as a lesbian. I mean for a bit I was worried that the whole time with me she was just pretending, but she set me right. Told me I was being thick and self-absorbed. That helped, you know? Like we’ll probably always be a little in love with each other, but not the way she loves Luna or how I love yo--”

Harry’s earth shattering rant cut off suddenly and his face bloomed with the fiercest flush Draco had ever seen on the other man. The Slytherin was still reeling from the knowledge that Harry Potter was single, bisexual, and loved someone other than Ginny. Jealousy burned through Draco at the thought that Potter had moved on without him ever getting the chance to try for his affection. And now the idiot was blushing all cutely like a third year who’d just confessed to who he fancied.

“--I’m so sorry, I promise I won’t make it weird--”

Draco blinked realising that he’d missed the fact that Harry’d began his adorable nervous prattling again. “Potter, shush.”

Harry snapped his mouth shut, looking like he’d just been slapped. Merlin, what had Draco missed? He was about to ask when Harry looked away sadly and said, “Fuck, I’m already making it weird.”

“Harry, the only thing that’s off is that I have not the foggiest what you said to make anything weird.”

“Draco, don’t make me say it just to throw it in my face,” Potter was saying softly, looking away.

“Harry, if you think I would ever do that to you, you’re denser than even I can imagine,” Draco snapped, Harry was the one who kept telling him he was good now, so how could he take that back?

He flinched, “I’m sorry, Draco, I’m just. I think I’ve been half in love with you since I was an idiot sixteen year old. I’m just being stupid.”

Suddenly Draco was on his feet and reaching over their tiny table to grasp the fabric of Harry’s shirt at each shoulder and pull him up as well. “You are _so_ stupid,” the blond whispered into the slim space between their faces, and then he was pulling the bumbling Gryffindor into a tentative little kiss. More of a brush of the lips than anything. He leaned back to look Harry properly in the eye.

It felt like a warm fizzy bubble was filling in his belly, rising, trying to float up his throat. Dimly, Draco realised this is what hope must feel like. “I’ve been full on in love with you since I was fourteen, Potter, I’m not in a position to throw anything anywhere.”

Harry’s face split into the biggest grin. He reached for Draco, but then seemed to change his mind because he stepped out away from the table that was separating them. “Come over to mine?” Harry asked, reaching out a hand for Draco.

The blond slid his hand into the one on offer, “whisk me away Potter.”


	2. Sometimes You Don't Notice Your Girlfriend is a Lesbian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little chapter with some backstory

Harry Potter could feel his nerves buzzing inside his skin, his magic zinging with excitement: Draco Malfoy was sitting on his sofa, his auror robes open to reveal his crisp white button down and perfectly tailored slate grey trousers. It’s not like Malfoy had never visited his place before, but it was the first time Harry had seen him lounge back into the sofa cushions, his shoes off, left ankle resting on his right knee, grinning lazily at him where he sat in a cushy arm chair. The black haired man never thought Draco was particularly wound up in his home, but seeing him this relaxed was a revelation.

Harry watched Draco take in his flat, lolling his head side to side along the back of the sofa to inspect the small kitchen-dining area from upside-down. He lifted his head and crunched his pale eyebrows together. “Why, in Merlin’s name, are you sitting so far away?” He said.

He had to swallow thickly before he could reply, “I--you’re just so--you look so perfect in my flat.” He could feel his cheeks burning, but he didn’t look away from Draco’s face.

Draco sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He smirked and Harry felt dizzy with the need to kiss the expression away; the tiny kiss at the pub had only made his desire stronger. He leaned toward the other man without thinking, like he was being accio-ed closer. “Scared Potter?” Draco tried to sneer, but it sounded much too fond.

Harry laughed and moved closer, so they were breathing the same air, so he could make out the silvery swirls in Draco’s irises. “You wish,” he breathed.

He hadn’t consciously thought, or decided, to lunge at Malfoy, but that is what Harry ended up doing, sending them both back into the sofa, lips catching each other’s’ while they laughed into the non-space between them. He honestly never thought he would get this with Draco. Now that it seemed he had, it was better than flying. Dimly his brain registered that this is how it had felt with Ginny in the beginning. New, fun, safe, but oh so dangerous.

After the war things changed. At first, Harry didn’t notice, maybe because he was in London and Ginny was at Hogwarts, but probably more because he didn’t want to notice. Ginny understood him like no one else--she knew how it felt to be unsafe in her own mind and body, how it felt to have loved ones ripped away, how it felt to feel small and alone. Hell they helped each other come to terms with being bi. They’d talk for hours, that never changed, but they used to spend just as much time wrapped up in snogging each other. They moved in together right after Ginny finished school, she needed space to breathe where she didn’t feel Fred’s absence at every turn. They got a tiny little one room flat in Diagon Alley to start out, but after Ginny made first string, they’d moved in here. A ground floor, two bedroom flat in Stockwell.

They were both busy with work, and they both had a lot of late nights on different nights, so it made sense for them to each have a room. When they were both home they’d spend hours talking or cooking or cuddling on the sofa watching telly, but Harry noticed, at some point they had stopped having sex. He felt kind of bad that it took him awhile to notice, maybe he’d been to wrapped up in his death eater chasing. He felt even worse when he realised he’d been seeing more and more of Malfoy in his wanking fantasies. In sixth year that fact had driven him to insanity. Malfoy was a boy. And evil. But this time, he just felt guilty. This time, he realised, he wanted all of Draco.

Harry resolved, quite firmly, then, to try to be a better boyfriend, because Ginny was easily his favourite person, and he couldn’t stand it if he was making her unhappy. Harry waited up for Ginny the next few practices, and greeted her with dinner and a kiss, and kept his solo-time fantasies strictly Ginny oriented. Their next free afternoon, Harry lent forward and kissed her right after she’d finished spelling away their clean dishes, but when he tried to take if further than a soft press of the lips, his girlfriend pulled away. She was wearing an expression he knew, one of pure determination, focus, it was how she looked at a quaffle mid-game, it was how she looked the first time she kissed him in the common room, but this time it was different somehow. Sad, maybe, a bit scared, but blazing.

“Harry, I--I think we need to talk,” she said, stepping farther away, moving to sit at their kitchen table. She motioned to the chair opposite, and Harry sat as well. “Harry, I, you’re probably my best friend in the whole world.”

The knot that had begun to twist in his chest loosened a small fraction, at least Ginny didn’t hate him for being a terrible boyfriend. He watched as the woman took a deep breath. Ginny looked him in the eye. “I think that I’m a lesbian.”

Harry blinked in shock, jaw hanging loose, eyes wide. That was not what he’d been expecting. His first thought was _oh, so that’s why we haven’t been getting it on_. His next, he blurted out thoughtlessly, “are you cheating on me?”

“Wha--no!” Ginny nearly shouted, rightfully pissed off at being wrongfully accused. She narrowed her eyes at Harry, who was still quite dazed at the new information. “I have been in love with you since I was ten years old, Harry Potter, I wouldn’t do that. But I can’t pretend any more, okay? I just feel itchy and _wrong_ and I hate lying to you about it all.”

Harry looked down, chastened, “Sorry that was shit of me to say. Do you--” he glanced up at her, face flushed, red hair pulled back into a messy bun, warm brown eyes watching him carefully. His eyes burned. With guilt, with heartbreak. Ginny had just come out to him and he was accusing her of cheating. Ginny would probably be leaving. His voice came out ragged, “I love you, Gin, no matter what, yeah?”

Her face softened, she exhaled. She smiled sadly, “I love you too, but that’s not enough anymore.”

There were tears leaking from his eyes now, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “When are you leaving?” Harry said around a throat thick with that fear of being left, again, with no family.

Ginny jolted, surprised she was being kicked out so soon. She’d been doing alright so far (aside from her anger at Harry’s first response), but the thought of _leaving_? The end of their all night chats and film marathons and quidditch debates? The end of Harry trying to cook the meals he made his aunt and uncle by using magic? The end of sleeping beside someone who knew her nightmares. Her voice shook, suddenly small, “Harry, can--can I stay?”

They were both crying as Harry stood and Ginny followed suit. “ _Oh, thank God,_ ” Harry breathed. “I don’t mind breaking up, but please don’t leave. Unless you want to, I mean.”

Ginny smiled through the salt in her eyes and fell into his arms on a watery laugh. Harry turned his face into her hair, which smelled as sweet as always, but he found himself craving something else. Someone else. _Yes_ , he thought, _this is for the best_.

It had been ridiculously easy to go from lovers to roommates. The only real change was that they no longer kissed, and that they had a new topic of conversation for their all nighters. Namely pining after their respective blonds. They had decided not to tell anyone besides Ron and Hermione just yet, to avoid awkward questions while they were still settling in. A month into the break up Luna started staying over in Ginny’s room and Harry would walk in to grab breakfast and find the two women giggling over scones and jam; clearly sickeningly in love.

Harry had expected the green dragon of fury from sixth year to rare its head at Luna, but it made no appearance. Seeing them warmed him from the inside out, but it also made him ache with envy. He’d never have thought he might get a chance at that with Draco.

And yet, here they were: Draco sprawled beneath him on his sofa, running his long graceful fingers through Harry’s hair, while Harry was stretched across him, his hips cradled between the blond man’s lithe thighs, his weight resting on his forearms on either side of Draco’s head. “What are you thinking, love?”

Draco’s question jarred Harry from his contemplation, and he felt the endearment like a shock, his breath caught at the gorgeous man in his arms, a man who he’d been totally zoning out on for the past few moments. “That I’m so fucking happy right now,” he said, letting Draco find whatever truth he needed with his grey eyes boring into Harry’s green.

“Then why, pray tell, are you not kissing me right now?”

The sarcastic drawl was so familiar (so infuriatingly sexy that sixteen year old Harry had pulled himself off angrily to the memory of far too many times to count), but the petulant pout of Draco’s lips, that was new. Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he lent his head down, “sorry,” he whispered against that cute new pout.

Ginny apparated back to her and Harry’s shared flat later than she’d meant to. Some press had shown up to practice looking for an inside scoop, which meant they had to extend air-time. She was positively exhausted. She even had had to call off her standing Friday night date with Luna because of those annoying shites. For a second, Ginny had considered going to her girlfriend’s after practice, but she was dead on her feet, and Harry had been moping over Malfoy a lot more recently. If he was still up, he could probably use some cheering.

She yawned and put her wand to the key hole to unlock the wards; she shuffled inside. The lights were on, so she scanned the room while toeing off her shoes. She froze when he eyes fell to their sofa. Well, Harry wouldn’t be needing her help cheering up, that was for sure. There were clothes scattered around their sitting room set, and Draco and Harry were cuddled up close together on the sofa, naked, squished into each other chest to chest. One of Malfoy’s feet hung off the edge because the man had scooted down enough to tuck his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. Their legs were twined together, and if it weren’t for the difference in their skin tones, it would have been hard to tell what belonged to who.

Thankfully, they were facing each other, which meant Ginny didn’t have to look at Malfoy’s naked self full on. She shook her head fondly, it looked as if they were going to have a nice household conversation about where in the flat was sex appropriate very soon. In the meantime, however, she slipped back into her shoes, and apparated to Luna’s, leaving a note on the inside of their door that read, ‘ _finally!!_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnnd this is still build up :P


	3. Not the Point But Ron and Seamus Did WHAT?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly smut :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to Tanvi my smut queen for helping me with this chapter. Lol you are my everything. Let me know if you like this!! Please feedback is everything! Thanks for reading!

“There is a reason why it isn’t allowed for spouses and partners to be field partners! And not only in the UK MLE, but also in muggle police departments all over the world! But, nooooo! Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are above the rules, aren’t they? Think nothing can touch them, don’t they? WELL, YOU’RE WRONG!”

Harry flinched back at the venom in his boss’s voice, and he kept eyes trained on the pale delicate fingers of his boyfriend’s left hand, which he’d laced between his own two brown ones. It was bad enough that Draco was lying unconscious in a bed at St. Mungo’s. The last thing Harry needed at the moment was to be yelled at by a furious Gawain Robards in the Janus Thickey Ward. Merlin, he needed a nap.

“Potter, you’re my best, and that means I expect the most from you, and lying, _just ain’t it_! You leave me no other choice but to suspend you.” (Harry’s jaw dropped.) “For two weeks,” Robards added, while inspecting the clip board at the foot of Draco’s bed.

“Wha--sir! That’s not! We solved the--”

Harry’s stuttering dismay was interrupted by his boss flipping the clip board to face him while he fervently tapped his finger next to the point that read ‘Two weeks will be more than sufficient recovery time.’ The chastened auror looked up at his boss smiling incredulously, “that’s so generous of you, sir.”

Robards grinned, “Don’t go thanking me yet led. You will also be switching offices with Weasley, and be confined to desk duty for two weeks following your return, after which the MLE department will evaluate if you and Malfoy can continue to be field partners.

Significantly less enthusiastically, Harry nodded. Robards opened his mouth again to speak, but was cut off. “Annnnd, that’s all the time I will allow you to harass my patients Mr. Robards!” Dean Thomas interrupted cheerily, beginning to herd the Head Auror from the room. Harry chuckled at the sight, before turning to look at Draco’s sleeping face. Gods how he wanted to take him home and sleep for five days straight in his arms. Fucking curses.

“So,” Dean’s voice shook Harry from his thoughts of sleepy cuddles. “You and Malfoy finally got your act together?”

Harry’s cheeks pinked. “Were we that obvious?”

“Speaking as a gay man, who lived in the same room as you for six years, yeah it was a bit. Speaking as a guy who was detained in the basement of Malfoy Manor for a while, completely obvious. You’ve both had a rough go of it, you deserve to be happy.”

“Blimey,” Harry chuckled, “Ron and I must be pretty fucking dense that we never picked up on you and Seamus!”

Dean fidgeted awkwardly with the sleeve of his healer’s robes. “Weellllll. That may have been just you.”

“What, you’re saying Ron knew?”

“He definitely knew about Seamus, that’s for sure,” Dean grumbled.

Harry gawped at what his former roommate (and kind of friend) was implying for a moment. He looked like he was going to ask more, but Dean straightened up and began to look over Draco’s chart. Harry decided to save any questions he had for his best mate, and let Dean focus on making sure his boyfriend was okay.

Before moving Draco to Mungo’s, Harry had had to do some serious medi-wizarding himself, just to make sure the blond would survive a side-along. His hands had been shaking and the sheer amount of blood and bone that was supposed to be covered by flesh and skin but _wasn’t_ made his eyes burn and heart clench. Draco himself, had been awake at that point, and it spoke volumes of his injuries that he was not cursing Harry to ‘just fix it you troll-fucking fool,’ but was instead trying to _comfort Harry._ While bleeding out in a dirty fight pit.

ϟϟϟ

Earlier

Objectively, being in a secret relationship sucked, but for Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, there was no other way around it. Once they’d had a taste of each other, there was no going back. In any context. Whether it be as auror partners at work or romantic partners at home. The two refused to give either up, rules be damned.

One would think someone at the office would notice the change, but perhaps they’d been acting like an old married couple for too long before the couple part was true. Plus, in public, they had the cover of Ginny and Harry. They still lived together, after all, and it worked in both of their favour: they could use the guise of their connection to keep the rising quidditch star out of the rags until the end of her season (after which she planned to come out, both to her family, and the world), and keep suspicion about Draco and Harry’s status to a minimum.

Draco had also been pleasantly surprised at Ron and Hermione’s ability to keep, what Ron and Ginny referred to as ‘Drarry,’ under wraps. Until getting pulled in to this bizarre crew of Gryffindors, Draco never would have guessed that these brash, bullheaded, lions could keep any sort of secret. He assumed their pride (Ha!

Like a lion pack!) would be put at stake. But that wasn’t so. As far as life at the Ministry was concerned Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were nothing more than friends and auror partners. As far as Robards and Minister Shaklebolt knew, they were nothing more than the dream team.

“Harry.”

The Boy Who Lived was currently staring blankly at their red string-covered case wall. Chewing on his bottom lip, brows screwed together in contemplation, he was idly tapping his wand to his desk, unknowingly sending little sparks out with every ‘click’ against the wood. His dark hair was wilder than usual, given the hours he’d been tugging at it in frustration while reading through their case files, and his glasses were discarded on their office bookshelf (meaning he really was just blindly glaring at the wall). In other words, Harry Potter looked positively adorable, and all Draco wanted in that moment was to cuddle him close and snog him senseless. But. They’re at work.

“Babe,” Draco tried, again, to get his boyfriend’s attention. Said boyfriend continued tapping and blind-staring. Completely zoned out. Draco sat up in his chair, pulling his feet down from atop his desk.

“OI!” He snapped, causing Harry to startle out of his daze and whip his head around towards Draco’s voice. The blond suppressed a smirk. “Pay attention to me!” He whined.

It was Harry’s turn to smirk, summoning his glasses and slipping them on. He shook his head fondly, despite his self-satisfied mouth quirk, and turned his body around to face his pouting Malfoy. “Ready to call it a day then?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Clearly, Potter,” he drawled (having learned in their three months as boyfriends that Draco behaving like the posh brat he is can really get his ‘pleb’ beau going). “You’re not getting anywhere new today, and it is nearly half-six,” (technically it was only five-past, but the Slytherin was banking on Harry being oblivious to this information). Draco looked away from Harry to study his own fingernails with bored disdain. “I suggest you escort me home, or I might be forced to seek _completion_ elsewhere.”

Apparently, Harry had used Draco looking away to silently move closer, so that when Draco raised his eyes from his hands, he was met with a low angle view of the man now leaning with his hands braced flat Draco’s desk. Draco leaned back in his chair smirking.

Harry _growled_. Evidently Draco had succeed in engaging the Green Dragon of Rage that Harry had told him about. It was almost funny that it worked given the fact that Draco has really only had eyes for one man his entire life. Sure he’s slept with other guys, kissed other guys, dated (well tried to) other guys, but no one ever stuck. They’d all been stand-ins. Potter had no reason to be jealous. But right now, that wasn’t the point. Right now the point was riling up his man into giving him the fucking he craved.

Green eyes narrowed, Harry stood. Ran a hand through his messy hair. “Christ, Malfoy, you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. To anyone but Harry, the gesture might look like a snobbish ‘you’re mad, aren’t you.’ To Harry it read: ‘what do you plan to do about it?’

“Okay, Dray, I’m headed home for the day.” Harry’s demeanour shifted almost instantly from jealous lover to casual co-worker. He slipped his hands in his pockets and Draco watched as his bag and jacket flew to him. Bastard. He knows how sexy wandless non-verbals are to Draco.

Draco stood up and walked around his desk to stand in front of Harry. Leaned his head down so his mouth brushed the other man’s ear when he asked, “Is your flat free tonight?”

As if he was a sunflower, and Draco the sun, Harry turned his cheek in to nuzzle the blond’s smooth jaw with his own five o’clock shadow. Like a cat, Draco’s eyelids fluttered as he leaned in to his boyfriend’s touch. “Mmhm,” Harry was saying, “Gin’s on an away game.” He pecked the corner of Draco’s mouth. “Sleep over.”

“If you insist,” Draco sighed, missing the mark of haughtiness he’d been aiming for.

Harry reached up and ran his thumb over the pale man’s pinked cheek, smiling softly. “See you in a minute love,” he said, before dropping his hand and striding out of their office.

Harry had Draco pushed up against the door to his flat. Draco would have liked to apparate directly on to his lover’s bed, but the (rightfully) paranoid idiot had wards up so that only himself and his flatmate could apparate into the house. Everyone else had to use the apparition point in Stockwell tube station. Either that or use the floo or a portkey. Side-along didn’t even work. It was infuriating to have to walk five minutes to simply visit his boyfriend. Muggles deserve an award for all the stupid walking they have to do.

The one--not advantage per say--but, perhaps a silver lining, of having to walk to Potter’s flat, was that it meant Harry had to let him in. Which has also meant that it’s not rare for Draco to get tugged into his boyfriend’s flat only to get pressed against the inside of the front door to be thoroughly snogged. Which is hot as a dragon’s clutch.

Presently, a shirtless Harry Potter was scraping his teeth against the point of Draco’s jaw, just under his right ear, while grinding their hips together slowly. His hands had slipped from their position dipped inside Draco’s waistband on his hips to full on groping his bum. Draco arched into Harry on a gasp. “Babe, Haz, c’mon, need more.”

Harry’s shock of black hair shifted in Draco’s sight line as he drew his mouth from what was sure to be an epic love bite, “can’t,” he sighed dejectedly (albeit still grinding his erection into Draco’s). Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ginny has banned us from sex in ‘common areas,’” Harry explained, unknowingly tarnishing Draco’s silver lining a bit.

Draco pouted, “fine, but you had better move us quickly, Potter, or I swear to Merlin I will rub one out here on your entry mat.”

“Bossy,” Harry said around a laugh, bending his knees, to hoist his spoiled aristocrat up into his arms.

It was all Draco could do not to swoon at the display of physical strength. And wasn’t that where Astor had been wrong. Seeker’s build. Sure, Harry was a good three inches shorter than himself, but he’d filled out since school. Now he was all broad shoulders and muscled thighs and _biceps._ And he was carrying Draco through his flat, his hands braced under Draco’s arse and his core tensed--lats and obliques flexing sinuously. The sight made Draco impossibly harder.

“You’re so fit--oof!”

Harry giggled at the sight of a flushed and turned on Malfoy bouncing on his bed. “You were saying baby?”

Draco groaned, “You’re lucky you’re so fit, Potter.”

“Nah, I’m lucky my boyfriend is.” Draco melted internally at that, and reached out grabby hands as Harry crawled up the bed to straddle his hips. Once settled, Draco ran his hands up the trouser clad thighs on either side of his hips. The black fabric scrunched up a bit, pulling taught over firm muscle; Draco spread his long fingers out, feeling his expanse, his strength.

He looked up as Harry leaned down over him, and raised up on his elbows to meet his lover in a kiss. “I love you,” Draco whispered when Harry pulled back a bit to breathe, his hands cradling the back of Draco’s head and neck.

“Love you too,” Harry smiled, “Now sit up so I can take this posh shirt off you.”

Draco flopped backwards dramatically. “You know you’re a wizard, don’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes before leaning back down, this time scooting to settle between Draco’s thighs, and attacking the milky skin of his neck with nipping kisses. “C’mon, babe, it’s hotter doing it by hand,” he mumbled against his boyfriend’s pulse. “Let--me--take--my--time,” Harry muttered, following the cut of Draco’s open collar with his mouth leaving pink little marks between each word.

“Fuck,” Draco breathed, threading his fingers into Harry’s black hair like he’d been dying to do back at work.

The Boy Who Lived continued with his path of love bites until he reached the first fastened button. He pulled the little shell piece between his teeth, tugging back playfully. “If you wreck my shirt, you won’t be given access to my arse, dearest.”

Green eyes danced to meet grey, glinting mischievously. Harry snapped the button in half with a _click_ , and the crisp white fabric gaped open a tad, exposing more silky white skin. Harry ground his erection into Draco’s, muttering, “’S’okay.” He took the next button and snapped it as well, “’was planning to ride you tonight anyhow.”

Draco’s hips bucked up automatically at the idea of being under Harry and inside him all at once. “ _Baby_ ,” he moaned, already well on the way to being completely wrecked.

“Mmm, does that sound good to you Dray?” Harry crooned softly as he spread open his boyfriends top-three-button-less shirt open, exposing Draco’s sternum and the tops of his pecs. He splayed a tan hand against the glowing white fissions radiating from beneath his fingers. Draco’s own lightning shaped scar. Harry followed one silky bolt with the tip of his finger, melancholy starting to drip into his moves. The man beneath him whimpered, pulled a hand out of his messy black hair to run his thumb over the light brown skin over Harry’s cheek bone.

The action seemed to break Harry out of his head, and he looked up into Draco’s silver sparkling eyes, “sorry, love, I’m here now.”

Draco nodded and leaned up for a kiss. “Good, because right now, I need you to take care of me.”

“So this is what all that brattiness at work was about then? Getting me to take you home and ruin you?”

Eyes closed the blond gave another nod accompanied by a high little moan, “yeah.”

Harry cupped Draco’s cheek and pressed their lips together in a softly. Harry’s tongue slipped between his lips, caressing slowly, seemingly relearning the geography of Draco. Draco was helpless just to follow his lover’s lead. Taking in what Harry was giving. Basking in the feelings of being tasted, determined as treasure, feeling something syrupy crash into him in waves. He was the vessel and Harry’s magic zipped into him between their mouths. Through Draco’s pores. Slowly Harry moved them down, so that Draco’s head was supported by pillows. “What do you need right now baby?” He asked into the small space between their mouths.

“’need you to decide. Need you--just anything you.”

Leaning up on his elbows to get a better look at the man under him, Harry asked, “and if you want to slow down? Or stop?”

Draco fluttered his eyes open, if he wasn’t lust hazy he’d have rolled them, “yellow or stop.”

Harry kissed him on the cheek. “Good boy, Dray.” He moved to whisper in Draco’s ear, “now, I’m gonna get you out of these clothes, then you’re going to watch me open myself up by hand, and you’re going to keep your hands flat on the bed baby. That alright with you?”

Draco nodded vigorously, eyes closed once more.

“I need words, Draco.”

Lashes scrunched as grey eyes squeezed tighter shut and muscles tensed, then went slack. “Yeah, Hazza, _please_.”

Harry leaned back so he was kneeling between Draco’s splayed thighs, and smiled fondly at his, already blissed, boyfriend. He’d discovered quite quickly, the blond’s desire to be taken care of. To be be loved physically and unconditionally without having to instigate. Without having to prove himself. When he’s like this with Harry all he needs to do is say ‘yes,’ and The Chosen One will shower him with the love he’s always craved. Tender, yet unbridled, affectless.

“Can you open your eyes baby?” Smiling softly at the genuine question, Draco blinked owlishly in reply. Harry grinned and got to work on his lover’s shirt. Starting from the last button he shattered, Harry grasped the white silk of the shirt and pulled, forearms and biceps flexing as he ripped the shirt open.

Draco’s breath hitched at the unnecessary display of strength. In the back of his mind, he noted that Harry would have to _reparo_ it in the morning. And buy him a new one. But in the forefront of his mind, all Draco could think was: _Circe, he’s sexy._

Spreading the fine fabric open to expose Draco’s muscled, but lithe and wiry chest and stomach. All pale skin, paler scars, and pink peaked nipples. If questioned, Draco would say that he found his lack of chest hair slightly emasculating, but honestly he loved how his body looked (certain _marks_ excluded). And with the way Harry was running his fingers reverently over every inch of exposed skin, it just reaffirmed that he didn’t need chest hair to be manly enough.

Harry started in with his teeth at Draco’s collar bone, and began to work his way down and across his body. Teeth pulling colour to pale skin, tongue coming in to soothe, and lips sealing in the heat and, somehow, the sparkling magic feeling of being _loved_.

Once, Draco asked why he spent so much time there. At the time, he wished he hadn’t. To Harry, his chest was a map of everything he had to apologise for. Every kiss a plea for a forgiveness that Draco cannot give. How can he forgive Harry for something that he never blamed Harry for? For something he had deserved. Harry hadn’t liked that explanation at all, but he did get a little less sad-eyed now when Draco had his shirt off. These days it’s his mission to put marks of love over as many of the fissions he can.

Draco’s fingers twitched, aching to twist in black hair, but he remembered Harry’s request. He arched up at the scrape of teeth over a nipple. Of a hand scratching softly through the trail of blond hair under his belly button leading down under the waistband of his finely tailored trousers.

Finally, Draco’s torso was licked and nipped to Harry’s satisfaction, and he palmed his boyfriend’s sleek thighs and thumbed the visible sliver of the crest of hip. After what felt like an age, he flicked the button of Draco’s trousers open. Pulled the zip down and pressed kisses on the blond curls below as the fabric exposed them.

“Fuck, baby,” Harry breathed. “’m never gonna get over the fact that you ‘ _pure_ ’ purebloods never learned about pants.”

Draco let out a surprised little huff of amusement at the comment, but couldn’t manage more because Harry had pulled the zip low enough to expose the head of his hard cock, and was now blowing cool air over the dripping tip. “Harry,” he whined. He wasn’t sure how much more teasing he could take.

In response, Harry licked a little at the flushed head of Draco’s cock and softly fondled his balls through the layer of cloth. After a moment of this he sat back on his knees so he could drag the trousers down pale thighs. When the garment was at Draco’s knees, Harry moved to stand at the edge of the bed and pulled it clean off. He took a moment to just stare down at his naked lover.

Fingers splayed and rigid against the dark grey duvet cover; face flushed; lips bitten and kissed all red; pupils blown wide; ribcage rising and falling in heaves; chest covered in rosy and wine coloured blooms; cock hard and weeping against his taught lower abs; long legs loosely splayed open, the only thing about Draco that wasn’t straining. Harry’s own cock was straining in his jeans.

“You’re gorgeous,” The Chosen one said to the former death eater, as he shucked his jeans and briefs in one go. Draco felt more precome drip onto his belly at the sight of Harry standing there all built and golden and hard for him. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to trick this literal golden boy into loving him, but times like this when it was just the two of them and their bodies? They made Draco feel like he could be worthy. That he can give back what he gets from this incredible man.

Harry climbed back into the bed and wandlessly muttered a lubrication spell. Draco frowned a bit, thinking he’d changed his ‘by hand’ resolve, until he saw the lube was just conjured onto fingers. “Dray? Do you want to watch my face or my arse as I get ready for you angel?”

“Face, Haz,” Draco replied, after brief a moment of thought.

“You got it baby.” Harry moved to his hands and knees so his face was hovering right over Draco’s. That way the blond wouldn’t have to strain to see the pleasure that was sure to play out over his face.

He reached back with the lubed hand and began to tease his fingers around his hole. Draco watched his face in a daze. Harry’s cheeks flushed a dusty rose against his golden skin, long dark lashes fluttering around the smallest sliver of green irises and depthless black pupils. His lower lip was caught between his teeth, and clearly he wasn’t just teasing any more going by the way his breath began to hitch. “Kiss?” Draco asked.

Harry dropped his lip from between his teeth and bent the elbow that was holding him up. He brushed his lips along Draco’s softly, before settling on his forearm to go for one much deeper. When Harry pulled back for air he conjured more lube on the hand he was using to work himself open and panted. Draco could pinpoint the moment Harry brushed his prostate by the way all the energy surrounding them thrummed with Harry’s magic. Harry licked at Draco’s ear and moaned softly--ever the quiet one.

After a few minutes of kissing and moaning and stretching, Harry pulled his hand back around and laid himself out on top of Draco, shoulder to groin, with his legs straddling Draco’s hips. He cupped Draco’s neck and tugged at the hair of his nape as he lifted the blond’s face to a better angle for kissing. Slowly, Harry ground their bare cocks together. Pulling away he grinned, “you ready for me baby?”

“Mmhm,” Draco blinked.

Harry chuckled at Draco’s incoherent cuteness as he sat back up and reached behind himself to position Draco’s cock at his entrance. He sank down in one fluid movement, eyes trained on his lover’s face. Once fully seated he rolled his hips, causing his eyes to flutter closed as he groaned in pleasure. “Christ, Draco, you feel so good inside me baby. Love you.”

“Harry,” Draco’s voice came out wrecked and reedy, having been on edge for so long, now to be, literally, thrust head on into white hot pressure. “Last?”

“Don’t worry about lasting baby, you can come when you want to,” Harry answered, now used to fucked out Draco speak. He began rising and falling quickly on Draco’s cock, riding his boyfriend hard.

Draco moaned, high and needy as he nodded, bucking his hips up a little bit. Harry stopped his riding and settled onto Draco’s lap firmly. He reached down and cradled the back of Draco’s head with one hand. “Baby, I want you to put your hands on my shoulders, okay? I wanna sit you up.”

It was like a spring had been released. Instantly, Draco’s arms were off the bed, and he wrapped himself like a limpet around Harry’s strong shoulders. Effectively sitting himself up. The change in angle made Harry’s breath catch, and back quiver. Draco buried his face in the curve of Harry’s neck, as the other man adjusted his legs on either side of Draco’s waist. The blond let out a series of soft _unh_ s as his boyfriend clenched and tensed around his cock.

 _“Harry,”_ Draco nearly screamed as he came hard and hot into the scorching heat of his lover.

Harry kept his hips swiveling infinitesimally, working Draco through his orgasm. He ran his finger nails softly up and down his spine lovingly. “You sound so pretty for me, baby.” Harry murmured into soft blond hair, soothing, but obviously tense with his own need for completion. He kissed open-mouthed along Draco’s ear and beautifully high cheek bone. “’m gonna pull off now, okay, Dray?”

Draco pouted and whined. He wanted to stay as close to Harry as possible. He wanted to drown in him. It was why he loved bottoming so much. Loved going limp all full of Harry and just falling into sleep while his lover went soft inside of him. Took care of both of them. Not out of obligation, but out of love.

Harry kissed him softly. “How about I pull out and then you can suck me off?”

Draco hummed his ascent. Harry in his mouth was almost as good as him in Harry’s arse. The fact that the gorgeous man trusted someone who’d endangered his life on multiple occasions with his most delicate part was enough to make Draco’s mind fizz with enough endorphins to rival a physical orgasm.

He leaned into the hand that Harry carded through his hair. Accepted another kiss, and then Harry was clambering off his lap, pulling off Draco’s softening cock. Without Harry’s physical support Draco flopped back onto the pillow to wait for further instruction.

“Sit up against the headboard a little for me, Draco?”

With a sort of sleepy-sluggish fluidity Draco managed to pull his body back to the headboard, he reached his arms out so Harry could tug him up to almost sitting and prop him back against the cushioned back of the bed. Once again Harry straddled Draco--this time over his lower stomach--and leaned forward so his aching cock brushed over Draco’s kiss-plump lips.

Draco’s tongue twitched out in a kitten lick. A question. “You can touch how you want, Dray,” Harry rasped.

Pale hands slipped up the back of corded brown thighs to feel the warm come that had begun to leak from Harry’s hole, and then pulled his body closer to Draco’s own face. Harry gasped and helped guide his tip fully into, usually thin, pink lips. Grey eyes fluttered shut in bliss as Harry thrust into his mouth slowly. He tasted of bitter-salty pre-come and pink-salt sex sweat. Draco pushed the man’s legs, asking him to go deeper. When Harry granted this wish, he swallowed greedily around the head of The Chosen One’s cock, taking it into his throat. All this time Harry was growing increasingly louder.

“Gonna come baby,” Harry grunted, his hips jumping out of his control. Draco eased back the tiniest bit to be able to catch as much come as he could on his tongue. Relishing the taste of Harry in his mouth, like it was concrete proof he was worthy. Proof he was good and loved.

Draco sucked Harry softly through the aftershocks, again wishing he could keep this man inside him forever. Eventually, though, Harry grew too sensitive and he gently pulled away and scooted them both down the bed to lay down. He felt him reach over the night stand for his wand and mutter a _scourgify_ over the two of them. Then he managed to vanish the duvet and then un-vanish it so it was on top of them. Then pulled Draco to lay half over his chest; a pale cheek over a filigree locket scar. Draco pressed a kiss to the waxy raise of scar tissue, another sign that Harry had survived, somehow, and ended up _his_.

“Love you Hazza,” He sighed contentedly, feeling lips brush his hairline before he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this!! I love comments and kudos!! It's weird writing Drarry cus Al/Scorpius is my main Potter ship and Drarry makes them literal bros, but!!! I like how this turned out.


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